


Keeping it for Yourself

by SJR



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Other, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:35:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SJR/pseuds/SJR
Summary: Holden's failures at the march in Atlanta are getting to him. His inability to keep his promises and to help the families has him reeling in panic and Bill sees for the first time what this means for his partner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of this is pulled from the episode to mesh it all together, originally it was an unrelated panic, but then they didn't give us a post cross assembly meltdown- so I just had to.

Bill noticed something wasn't quite right with his partner before they got to the hotel. Not that he would ever say anything about it without prompting, he cared for the kid but he was never the type of man to offer much assistance; especially when faced with blatant vulnerability. 

Today was hard, but he could sense that there was something deeper going on. They sat at the lobby bar in silence while Bill finished his first drink. It was clear to him that something was happening in Holden's head, he kept a subtle yet watchful gaze from his peripheral at his partner's hands clasping the glass on the table in front of him with a firm grip. 

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted, the bartender had answered a call and was flagging over to Bill. 

“Mr. Tench?” the bartender called. 

“Agent.” he heard Holden quietly correct from behind him. 

“Sorry, Agent Tench. I have a call for you.” he held out the receiver for Bill and he stood, walking over to the white rotary at the end of the bar. 

\--

Holden sat beside Bill as they drank, his body was tense as he sat atop the bar stool. He could feel his hands clench around his glass over and over but had no ability to stop it. It was there with him, the panic, like a hand reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart until it would stop beating. It was not an option for him to let it show so he struggled with keeping his breathing steady and the ever-increasing urgency to run out and into the cool night’s air at bay.

That's when he corrected the bartender. He could feel Bill glance back at him before taking the phone and settling into the call. Holden could tell that this was something that would plague him for the rest of the night and he was in no mood to hide his pending breakdown from his partner.

“Jim says they found another body,” Bill said, settling back into the seat beside him. 

His heart slammed against his chest. Holden grit his teeth in silence, mustering any remaining strength he had to maintain the conversation. 

“Lubie?” he asked

Bill nodded, he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, steadying his voice again. 

“Cause?”

“Strangulation.” 

“Where?” he added almost so fast he cut his partner off. 

“Vandervier road,” Bill’s drink was replaced and he picked up the newly filled glass, “about two miles from victims one and two.”

Holden’s thumbnail started to grind against the side of the glass as he held it. Trying to keep his thoughts on track and ask the right questions. 

“What was he wearing?”

“Just his jockeys.” Bill took another long sip. 

“Same as four others,” his mind was spinning, trying his best to work through the new information “It fits, he fits the pattern. They’ve got to get on board with us, it’s one predator, BIll.” 

They both sigh and Holden added, “we just got to figure out how to get him in the open.” 

He couldn’t help it, the thoughts and memories, flashing through like a slideshow of mockery. _His feet pounding against the hard pavement, the sharp edges of the cross pressing into his ribs as he rushed to fulfill his promise. Such a simple promise, and yet still he fucked it up beyond all understanding. If he couldn’t handle so much as that, how was he going to find their killer? He clambered up the stairs and could see their march, moving towards him closer with every step. Closer and closer until he felt like he couldn’t move. Closer until they could see that he was clumsily slamming his promise together in front of their very eyes. This was the man who was supposed to help them, to save their children. It was clear to everyone that he couldn’t even help himself. _

“Today was-” 

“You had a good idea,” Bill interrupted, “probably won’t be your last.” 

Holden couldn’t take it, “I don’t understand how 19 children can be slaughtered, and we spend an entire afternoon figuring out which drill bit is official size.” 

“It’s been a tough day.” 

“You heard from Quantico?” he was desperate and was met with Bill's silence and a slow shake of his head, “Does Gunn even know what we are trying to do down here?” 

“I don’t think anyone knows how to deal with this Holden.” The older agent’s voice was impatient, and frustrated, “it’s not like there’s a blueprint for this.”

“We should be creating a blueprint,” he urged, “as the experts.” 

Bill sighed into his glass and finished the drink. 

“How are we supposed to do that when everything has to be filled out in triplicate.” Holden’s question was rhetorical but he was frustrated it didn’t garner a response, so he pressed on “maybe when there’s an even 20 we’ll get a longer leash.” 

He felt his partner’s burning gaze from beside him, watching out of the corner of his eye while Bill stood in silence and brushed his tie flat.

“Your turn right?” Bill asked, gathering his things. 

“I’m good for another,” Holden was defeated, and at this point, he was scared to move for fear of his legs giving out as he stood. 

“Nah, I’m gonna get flat” 

It was all coming to a head for him, his panic, his frustration, his disappointment in Bill - in himself. The statement was accusatory, to say the least, “right, all the travel takes it out of you.” 

“Yeah. Thanks for the drink” Bill wasn’t going to entertain his tantrum and walked away without another word. 

As his partner left, Holden glanced up at the TV over the bar. It showed a news report about the murders. His head was spinning and he gripped his glass tighter, a ragged breath dragging its way into his lungs. 

\-- 

Bill’s made his way towards the elevator with purposeful steps. It was a miracle he didn’t lose it at Holden at the bar. 

_‘The fucking nerve,’ _ he thought, sucking his teeth in anger _ ‘he has no god damn idea.’ _

The elevator dinged and he saw it open, stepping into the car and turning back towards the doors he looked out at the lobby to see Holden still sitting. Bill grimaced and smashed the button for their floor, eyes never leaving his partner as the smooth metal slid closed in front. 

As the elevator climbed he couldn’t help but remember the cross, the way it laid down along the floor. It’s stark white lines staring back up at him with venomous memory of what awaited him back home. He pushed the thoughts from his head, Bill knew he couldn’t lose himself to the troubles with Brian. One of them needed to keep their shit together until this was all over. 

The doors opened and he headed out into the hallway, his shoes shuffled quietly against the carpet and he dug the key out from his pocket. It jingled in his hand as he lifted it to the door, sliding it into the lock he paused a moment as he glanced over to Holden’s room beside him. He knew it was empty, it’s occupant still seated at the bar, but he was worried. The kid didn’t look good, and he could tell today was getting to him. 

\--

Holden was sweating, he could feel the hot waves crash over his body, praying that it wouldn't soak through his thin shirt. His throat was tight and swallowing the last of his drink took effort not to choke. Those physical instincts, swallowing, breathing, blinking, things that your brain did automatically now required focus. He was grateful for it, in a strange way, at how it gave him momentary reprise from the whirlwind of thoughts swimming around in his head.

He didn’t register standing from the bar, reaching for his briefcase and the sound of someone speaking behind him. 

“Sir,” it was the bartender, “Agent Ford, you forgot your key.”

Turning back, he offered a nod, “right, thank you”. 

His hand reached out for the small key, the number tag hanging limply off the ring. The other man passed it to him but his hand failed to close and it fell onto the bartop, clattering loudly in the silent lobby. 

Holden could feel the bartenders gaze on him and he quickly snatched the key up, “have a good night.”

He took two steps and paused, he looked back and called out quickly “how much for the rest of that bottle?” 

“Twenty dollars sir,” the bartender answered and pulled the bottle from the shelf. 

He nodded and walked back to the bar, shaking he pulled the cash from his wallet and the bottle from the man’s hand. It was a miracle it didn’t drop too. 

“Thanks.”

\-- 

Bill sighed as he entered his room, placing the bags down on a table he ran a tired hand over his face. His steps moved him over to the end of the bed where he sat, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. 

_'Jesus Christ Holden' _ he thought to himself _ 'what the fuck is going on with you.' _

He shook his head and sat up, trying to rid his mind of Holden, trying to forget that there was a very good chance his partner was in a very bad place. Bill stood from the bed and made his way over to the bathroom; he bent over the sink to the now running water and splashed it over his face. Bracing himself on either side he stared down at the tap, following the water as it collected in the basin and swirled into the dark drain. A long sigh followed the water down before he shut off the tap, dried his face with a towel and headed towards the door. 

\--

Holden moved into the elevator and stood with his eyes locked ahead, his heartbeat hammering in his chest so loud it was all he could hear. Head swimming and his palms slick with sweat as he gripped his bag and the whiskey bottle tight. He didn’t notice at first when the doors opened for their floor and he remained in the elevator. They started to close and his arm jerked out, catching the gap and forcing them to part so that he could step through. 

He walked down the hall towards his room in a daze. He didn’t notice the neighboring door pull open, Bill stepping out as he approached. 

“Holden” Bill’s voice was muffled. “Are you alright?" Bill called out again, a tinge of annoyance muddied the concern that was more prominent in his voice. 

The younger agent stopped and glanced over, he noticed his partner standing and watching him. 

"Yes, of course, I'm fine." He placed down his bag and pulled out the room key, "just tired". 

Bill looked him up and down, pausing on the bottle in his hand. "I'm not going to assume I know what's up with you right now.” he gestured to the bottle with a tilt of his chin, ”can’t imagine that would hurt though.” 

He tried a smile, his teeth clenched and his hands tightening “I’m sure it’ll help.” 

They stood there a moment in awkward silence, Bill still eyeing the younger agent. Holden turned without a word and shoved the key into the lock, Bill's eyes following him closely. He hid his fumble, cursing inward as he knew he was being watched, analyzed. He cleared his throat and managed to turn the key, his hand shaking as he thrust the hotel door open. 

Holden could feel it begin to surge. He bent down for his bag, the world tilting as he did, and grabbed it. It took every ounce of control he had left to not sprint in and slam the door. Once it closed, it was over for him. 

\--

Bill was startled when Holden swung the door shut behind him. Not that he was expecting anything, in fact, it was coincidental that the kid came back right as he left the room. He had every intention of going down to the bar to check and still find him sitting, glass in hand, staring into his drink. 

Their interaction was more than he needed for confirmation, and he knew his concerns were not misplaced. His partner was losing his grip and Bill worried what that would mean for the investigation, or admittedly worse for what it could mean for Holden. 

_‘Panic attacks might not be brought on by anything real, but their effects are very real’ _ Wendy’s words about Holden at the bar spiked in his mind. _ ‘It could have serious consequences for us. And very real physiological consequences for him.”_

Bill knew he couldn’t walk away. Could panic kill a man?

\--

The bag slipped from his hand and Holden stumbled inside. The whiskey barely made it on the table before he collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving with desperate breaths. His mind was swimming, waves of thoughts splashing against his skull while his vision spun. His heart hammering and hammering as he clutched at his chest, sucking in air like a man who was on the verge of drowning. 

Holden's mouth was agape in a silent scream, it was like death was pulling him down deeper and deeper. Every body they found, every child that they couldn't save reaching out at him. Every killer alive he sat across from, bonding with, entertaining their sick fantasies. Nothing he did, nothing they worked towards has stopped his failures. The last supporting arm that held him up buckled and he fell into the rough carpet, pulling his knees up into his chest he choked on sobs and panic as the world spun.  
Holden lay curled, immobilized, on the floor. His dazed eyes stared ahead but did not register anything in front of him. His breathing was ragged, strained and fast, he was starting to forget what oxygen felt like. 

He wasn't ready to face it when the knock on his door sounded through the room. The voice calling from the other side, strong, intentioned, and not about to go away. 

"Holden" Bill knocked, followed by a momentary silence. "got a drink to spare?"

He could feel the tears burning in his eyes, choking shaky breaths back as he prayed this would end differently. There was another knock. 

"Ford" Bill said sternly "I'm coming in if you don't answer, don’t pretend you’re asleep".

Holden urged himself up, kicking his legs out and climbing to his feet. A hand braced him against a table and he looked around the room, trying to find a way out, an excuse, anything. His knuckles brushed the cool glass of the whiskey bottle and he dizzily reached out for it. Rushing over to the motel glasses sitting on a tray, he snatched one up and fumbled with the bottle's lid. The liquid sloshed into the glass, his hands shaking violently, a large splash came up and over the edge spilling on the surface below. 

The bottle hit the table just as the door's handle spun. One hand holding the glass while the other, white-knuckled, held him up as he turned to face Bill who was stepping into the room. 

"Why didn’t you answer," Bill said, eyeing him suspiciously. 

"S-Sorry" Holden said, trying to stay focused and his voice steady "I was lost in thought". 

His partner squinted at him in disbelief, scanning the room before turning back to him. Bill closed the door and stood in front with his arms crossed. 

"Well?" 

Holden was confused. He could barely hear over the heartbeat and humming in his head, and Bill was just staring at him. Waiting. 

"I-" he clutched his glass, his hand felt numb. 

"Keeping it all for yourself I see" Bill offered a smile and a humored exhale. He moved away from the door and towards Holden, he watched the kid's eyes following him as he moved to his other side where the remaining cups sat. Something didn't seem right though, Holden was watching him but it didn't seem like he was seeing him. 

He reached out for a glass, turning his gaze away from Holden as he looked down for the bottle. Out of the corner of his eye, Holden's hand left the table beside him and he thought for a moment that maybe he was ok. That moment was very brief, as seconds after there was the sound of glass shattering behind him. Bill's hands fell from their task and he turned; there was Holden, whiskey glass shattered across the floor and bedside table, on his knees clutching at his chest. 

"Holden!" He rushed to his partner "what the christ are you-" 

The kid was gasping, his eyes squeezed so tight that tears spilled over "I'm sorry" he choked "I tried to- I can't breathe" 

Bill rounded him so that they were facing. Dropping down to level himself, he grabbed Holden's shoulder firmly. 

"It's okay, just try to relax" he attempted to gain some eye contact "just sit back, c'mon let's get you up". 

Holden was shaking his head erratically, a fist grabbing up against his heart and chest "I can't" he whispered, "Christ I'm dying". 

"You're not dying Holden, you know that" he grasped at his other shoulder "this is just an episode okay, we'll get you through it". 

Holden let out a sob-like groan, he was losing his mind and now his partner was standing over him, judging him. He couldn't breathe and he knew how weak he looked and he couldn't handle everything now coupled with the crippling embarrassment he would face. It didn't register at first that Bill had pulled him up, his hand's firm under his arms he was being gripped like a child who refused to get up after a tantrum. Holden was pushed back to rest against the bed frame, his head lulling about as he tried to focus on his dizzying surroundings. 

That was when Bill noticed the blood, it was all over Holden's shirt and it took him a moment to find the source. A shard of glass embedded into the kid's palm, it was bleeding furiously while Holden was clutching at his chest. It was clear that it went completely unnoticed, no pain even registering on his partner's face. Just panic. Just fear. 

"I need you to try to breathe. In and out. " Bill instructed, "Where's your Valium?" 

Holden shook his head "I'm out, I don't have it, I'm out.'' 

He cursed silently and realized they were on their own with this. Bill was an adept agent but if he was being honest, he had no fucking idea what he needed to do. But he did know that he cared about the kid and watching this was a lot harder than he had anticipated. 

Kneeling in front of Holden, Bill placed his hands on either side of his face. He forced the smaller man to look up at him. 

"I need you to breathe with me Holden" he urged, "In-" he took a deep breath, watching to make sure Holden followed along "and out."

"I- I ca-" 

"Shut up. IN" he demanded. "And OUT". 

They worked together on a breathing rhythm, Bill watching with every breath that Holden's lungs were taking the air. After a few minutes, the shaking diminished between his hands and he wagered that things might be leveling out. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked. 

Holden's eyes closed and he let his head fall out from between Bill's hands, resting against the bed behind him. He took a moment and focused on the rhythm of their breaths. 

"My hand hurts"

Bill let out a sigh of relief "thank god. You cut your hand, there's glass in it." 

"Oh." Holden opened his eyes but couldn't bear to look away from the ceiling above him. He didn't want to lift his head and face the penalty of seeing Bill's expression. 

He felt the larger man shift back in front of him, moving his position to sit rather than kneel. 

"I'm sorry about this Bill".

"It's fine" Bill grunted "shit, scared me is all". 

Holden let out a weak laugh "yeah, I guess it can do that". 

He lifted his head to see Bill sitting, one arm crossed while the other had an open palm resting over his mouth. He felt it, the guilt, buzzing around with the remaining anxiety as he watched the stress clinging in his partner's eyes. He was ashamed, embarrassed, all of this was because of him. 

"Is it always that bad?" Bill asked suddenly, his eyes darting over to Holden. 

"It varies, but most of the time yes."

"Fuck" he sighed, "you need to talk to someone about- "

"I know-"

"Do you?" Bill interrupted in return "explain not having any valium then, huh? Is that because you know you need to talk to someone to get it?"

"Bill-- I'm sorry, okay?" 

"No, not tonight." he shook his head "for Christ's sake Holden, I- we can't afford to lose you to this."

Holden nodded, the lump in his throat grew as the guilt increased. 

Bill sighed and stood "let's fix your hand, and then I'll be damned if I don't have that drink."


	2. Hotel Carpet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Bill finally gets Holden back from his panic attack, they are left with fixing the damage. Broken glass and hotel carpets are not a wound's best friend.

Holden watched from the side of his gaze while Bill stood from the carpet. It was starting to sink in, what had happened, what Bill had just witnessed. He knew his partner was aware of these episodes since the hospital, but he had yet to witness it firsthand and Holden knew there was no going back from this. It took everything he had to not sink back down, with every breath and beat of his heart he had to focus on what was in front of him. Instead of his shame. 

He finally looked down at himself, legs splayed out in front of him amongst the peppering of glass shards. His eyes drifted to the front of his shirt, smeared in blood. His breath hitched a moment in surprise before he remembered his hand. Peeling it away from his chest he eyed the angry glass jutting out from his palm. 

“I have a first-aid kit in my room,” Bill said out of the silence. 

Holden glanced over to see his partner pouring a generous glass of whiskey at the table. 

“I’m going to go get it, and if I somehow come back to a locked door I’m going to kick it in.” Bill glanced back at Holden “do you understand?”

Holden nodded, curling his hand half-closed. The blood was still running out and he could feel the cut burning up through his wrist. If he was being honest, it was a welcomed distraction. 

“Get that shirt off if you can, and I’ll be back in a minute” Bill headed towards the door, drink in hand. He paused a moment and looked back at Holden who was still visibly distressed. “It’s going to be okay.” 

The door swung open and closed and suddenly Bill was gone. Holden was at odds with his feelings about that, part of him being relieved that he wasn’t being witnessed and the other part felt the fear of what being alone with his thoughts could mean. He opened his hand again and stared down at the glass sticking out. It glimmered red and the skin around it was ragged and torn. Clutching at his shirt with the glass still there must have added some damage.

_‘Shirt’ he thought ‘get it off.’_  
\--

Bill closed Holden’s door behind him and stood a moment out in the hall. His mouth fell open and his brows arched up as he shook his head in disbelief. He kept thinking about the kid, clutching, gasping, losing his mind. Maybe it wasn’t that, total loss of mind, but Christ if it wasn’t terrifying to witness. 

He brought the glass up to his lips and took a long swig until most of the contents were gone. Bill held the whiskey in his mouth a moment before a hard swallow, turning he entered his room and set to find the kit. 

\--

Holden truly realized then how wrecked the garment was, that and he was still in his suit. With shaky legs, he gripped the bed with an arm thrown back and pushed himself up onto it. It was a sad sight, to say the least, and wasn’t without struggle. He managed to wiggle his good arm free of his suit jacket before reaching over to the damaged hand and slowly sliding the sleeve down over it. The cool feeling of removing the layer was an unexpected refreshment against his sweat-soaked shirt beneath. 

Button by button he made his way down the dress shirt, one-handed and slow throughout the process. He should have expected Bill to walk in but it was still a bit of a shock. He has halfway finished the unbuttoning when he saw his partner slide through the doorway, the first-aid kit tucked under his arm so that he could still carry his drink. 

Bill closed the door and turned to him, “I’m not going to come and help you with that unless you really need it.”

He shook his head “I’m fine, just taking my time.”

“Right.” the older man walked past him and over towards the bathroom at the back of the room. 

Holden heard the glass clink down against the hard countertop and the zipper of the kit buzz open. He worked through the remaining buttons on his shirt, repeating the same method of removal that he used with his suit jacket. By the time Bill came back into the room, he was sitting in his undershirt with the bloodied fabric hanging limply off the bed in his good hand. 

“C’mon, let’s get this sorted” Bill called over, expecting Holden to join him. 

He stayed where he was, not intentionally inconveniencing his partner but just unable to move. He heard Bill sigh and the muffled footsteps moving towards him over the carpet. 

“If you’re still having trouble, that’s fine.” The older agent reached out and grabbed the bottle of whiskey before standing beside him, “but you can’t bleed here all night.”

Holden nodded slowly, letting go of his shirt he half noticed it slide from the bed and onto the floor. He stood, his shoes kicking small pieces of glass with a clink as he followed Bill towards the bathroom. 

The fluorescent light had Holden squinting when he walked in. Bill was already by the sink, he watched as the drink was lifted from the counter and finished in a smooth sip. He put the glass down before rifling through the kit and pulling out a few items. 

Bill glanced back “sit down”. 

Holden’s gaze shifted from Bill to the toilet perched between the tub and the sink, “do you know what you’re doing?”

His partner pursed his lips in an unimpressed smirk “are you in a position to care?”

He shook his head, “no. Thank you for helping-” 

“It’s fine. Sit down” 

Doing as he was told, Holden moved into the room and sat down on the toilet lid beside Bill. He stretched out his arm and offered him the hand. Watching as Bill inspected the wound closely before turning back to the kit. 

“It looks deep, I’m going to pull out the glass and if it needs stitches then we’ll do that.” 

He nodded and looked towards the floor. His gaze was interrupted by a hand holding the bottle of whiskey out in front of him. 

“Take a good swig, this isn’t going to feel nice.” Bill instructed, “and I can’t have you relapsing right now.”

Holden took the bottle in his good hand, raised it up to his lips and drank. An easy four shots made it down his throat before he stopped and coughed. He could drink, but chugging down whiskey wasn’t on his resume. Bill reached out and took the bottle back, Holden didn’t have a chance to realize what was happening before his partner grasped down firmly on his wrist, holding it over the sink and pouring the alcohol over the wound. 

“Fuck” he hissed, trying to jerk his hand away. 

“Easy,” Bill held firm “God knows what’s in these hotel carpets.”

Choking back any additional comments, he clenched his teeth against the searing pain in his hand. Bill’s grip pinned him against the counter over the sink, he wasn’t expecting it but leaned into the feeling as a way to try and forget how fast his heart was beating again. When the glass was pulled from his palm with a jerk, he let out a small yell. 

“You’re gonna need stitches.” his partner said plainly “Christ Holden, maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

Holden shook his head, “no this is fine. I’d prefer not to go anywhere right now.”

“You could get some more valium, that might not be a bad ide-”

“No” he snapped, his eyes shut and his head turned away “just sew it up, I’ll manage.”

\--

Bill’s face tensed in a look of concern, his partner couldn’t see but this was starting to really get to him and he was worried. Without further urging, he let go of Holden’s wrist and pulled the supplies from the kit and set up. He’d stitched wounds before in emergency circumstances but it was never something he enjoyed. 

“Ready?” he asked, positioning himself. 

Holden nodded. 

Bill turned the water on briefly and rinsed out the gash once more, patting it try he ignored his partners' small flinches and bore down. “You’re going to need to keep yourself steady for this, I need both hands.”

Another silent nod from Holden. 

With a sigh, Bill pinched the two sides together and thread the needle through the skin with a punch. He could see the kid’s hand shaking under his own and had an overwhelming feeling of sympathy. This was hard and he knew it, harder for Holden than for him in all aspects. 

He was thankful that the cut was deep, but not long, and only resulted in needing a few good stitches. Before long, he had sewn everything up and laid a piece of gauze over his work to be taped down. Sneaking a look over at Holden he saw the sheen of sweat coating his face and the sudden shift in colour, he was pale. He yanked out a strip of tape and wrapped the kid's hand. 

“Still with me?” he asked nervously, trying to peer down to get a look at his face. 

“Mhm” Holden mumbled, still averting his gaze. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to take a shower.”

Bill pursed his lips before nodding “fine, just keep your hand dry. I’ll be outside.” 

“You don’t need to -”

“Non-negotiable” he packed up his kit, discarding the soiled materials and rinsing the blood from the sink. 

Sliding the kit back under his arm he spared a look at Holden who was sitting, cradling his arm against his chest with a lost look in his eyes. Hard as it was to admit, this pained him to see and even more so that he couldn’t help. Without another word he left the bathroom, trying to offer a small amount of trust back to Holden by closing the door behind him. 

\--

The door clicked closed and Holden let out the breath he was holding. It was shaky and ragged and it made him sweat. His hand throbbed, his head throbbed, somehow everything hurt. Raking his good hand over his face, he paused and pinched in at his eyes in an attempt to push everything back. Hoping that when the spots he pressed into his vision left, everything would be as it was. That he’d be fine. 

He stood and turned to the shower, cranking the handle as far as it would go he watched the steam rise from the downpour. He pulled his shirt up over his head and discarded it on the floor alongside the rest of his clothes. His vision swam and he ignored it, stepping into the burning water he rested his bandaged hand outside of the stream and against the shower wall. The heat stung and bit at his skin, he ignored it, dipping his head under and letting the water pour into his ears and over his face his heart slammed against his chest. 

The tears came with ease when he was alone, gliding down and mixing their salt amongst the hotel's shower water. He fell to rest against the wall and he sobbed into the steamy bathroom air, dropping his head back with a thump against the condensation covered tile. 

Holden stayed there longer than he knew he should, as he was certain that Bill was eyeing the bathroom door with suspicion. That didn’t matter right now, nothing mattered right now but the scorching shower and- he stopped. The air was too thick, the steam was too dense and he couldn’t breathe again, the cut on his hand burned and throbbed and he felt the spots in his vision come back. His hand shot out and twisted the handle off, the water dribbled out of the tap and he braced himself in the shower. 

\--

Bill wandered into Holden’s room. He placed the first-aid kit down on the table and took a moment to look around. The sound of the shower started up behind him and his eyes fell onto the mosaic of glass scattered across the crusty hotel carpet. He made his way over, putting his drink down he slowly began to pick up the pieces piling them into his hand. 

Lost in thought, he soon realized what he was hearing, Holden was crying - it was faint but he could hear it over the loud rush of water behind the door. Bill paused a moment, sitting back on his heels with a pained expression he let his hands fall to his side. 

_‘God Holden’ he thought ‘I just don’t know… I'_

He sighed and continued to pick up the glass. There were a lot of things he knew he couldn’t fix, but at the very least he could do this. Bill made a promise to himself in that moment to never let on that he knew, never show Holden even a glimmer or hint that he heard what happened behind that bathroom door in those moments of privacy. At the very least, he could save him a modicum of remaining pride. 

The glass was all gone and he had dumped the shards into the trash. He realized the whiskey was left in the bathroom, so he made a seat for himself in an empty armchair. Kicking his feet up on the table nearby, he lounged back and waited for the kid to come out. 

\--

Holden gripped at the shower curtain and yanked it back. He was putting too much weight onto the flimsy fabric and it felt it break free of the rings holding it up. He stumbled, his shoulder hammering into the tile beside him. 

“Shit” he muttered, steadying himself before taking a careful step out of the tub. His vision was still swimming and he felt his chest tightening again. He needed to get out of there, out of the stifling heat and steam. 

With an awkward grasp, he pulled the towel hanging from the rack in front of him. Wrapping it around his waist the best he could and trying to stay upright he managed to cover himself enough to leave. The bathroom door’s handle was slick with condensation too, the entire room had become an unintentional sauna and he could feel himself getting lost all too quickly. Finally, he managed to twist himself free, wrenching the door open and stumbling out into the exterior room. 

In his momentary panic, he’d forgotten that Bill was still there. He watched his partner’s eyes dart over to him from the chair he lounged in and realized how exposed he was. 

“I realize we are partners,” Bill said, “but I can’t say I was ever expecting to get to know you this well.” It was meant to be a joke, but given everything that had happened, it didn’t really feel all that funny. 

Holden forced a smile and tried to breathe in the cool air. 

“Grab the bottle from in there since you’re up,” Bill asked, nodding to the bathroom. 

He was still reeling from the shower and felt a pang of discomfort at the idea of going back in. Turning he stepped back into the ventilating bathroom in search for the whiskey. 

“I appreciate what you’re doing Bill,” he called out to him “but you being here really isn’t necessary.”

Holden exited with the bottle in hand and saw Bill lounging back in the chair, though his eyes were closed now. 

“As excited as I was to climb into my shitty hotel bed” Bill countered, not opening his eyes “that’s not going to happen. So I recommend that you put on some pants while my eyes are still closed and we get some rest.” 

A strained swallow dragged it’s way down his throat. Holden put down the bottle on the table and reached for his bag, unclasping it and pulling free the pajama bottoms as requested. 

“Tell me when the coast is clear” Bill added. 

“In a minute” Holden let the towel fall to the floor and quickly stepped into the pants, yanking them up over his waist. “Done.”

Bill opened his eyes and dropped his legs from the table, bending over to reach for the whiskey he poured himself another drink before loosely offering it to Holden with a tilt. He shook his head, closing the suitcase in front of him and dragging it off the bed. 

“Do you need to talk about any of this?” The older agent inquired over the rim of his glass. 

Holden shook his head again, “I just need to sleep.”

Bill hummed thoughtfully before nodding, “okay, I’ll be here.”

“In the chair?” 

Bill confirmed “Mhm. In the chair.”

He felt awkward about climbing into bed while his partner just sat there. He heard the thunk of Bill taking off his shoes and lifting his legs back up to rest on the table. The light was flicked off and the only sounds that remained were the occasional sip of Bills whiskey and their breathing in the alternating silence. 

“Bill?” Holden asked the darkness. 

“What Holden” came from the shadows. 

“You’re too old to sleep in a chair” he tried for humor and heard the responding sigh. 

“Go to sleep.” 

He cringed at the response, worried that he might have pushed the limit. But before he was able to succumb to the frenzy of self-doubt, he heard the sound of the glass hitting the table and the shuffle of Bill standing. A few moments of soft noise later and the bed sunk down behind him with a groan. 

“Goodnight Holden.”


End file.
